


Bloody Hell

by SisterSunny (orphan_account)



Category: Rockman X | Mega Man X, Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Accents, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Everyone Is From The British Isles, Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slow Burn, Swearing, oh boy, so much swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 18:28:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21150224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/SisterSunny
Summary: Zero was just an ordinary bloke, really. Some lad who some posh lad thought fought good. Pity his life didn't stay boring for much longer.X was terrified, weak, and bleeding from every pore. Damn, this wasn't good.And somehow, their lives were soon to be inseparably intertwined.





	Bloody Hell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kosei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kosei/gifts).

> Heya! Had this idea floating around for a week or two, so I decided to write it! It was inspired by a series of artworks by this artist:  
https://twitter.com/niccapia?s=08
> 
> Specifically this piece and a few others:  
https://twitter.com/niccapia/status/1183006904080945155?s=08
> 
> Don't worry, it shouldn't detract from Contaminated. It's just a side project until I finish that work.
> 
> The accents aren't quite as strong as in the first draft, but they still use a lot of British isles slang/phrases. Unfamiliar, beware.
> 
> p.s dedicated to Kosei 'cause their writing style totally inspired how Zero acts in this work  
<3!

Zero groaned as the morning sun struck his fluttering eyelids.

“Bloody ‘ell, it’s mornin’ already?”

He shook his head, disgruntled. Peering around his room, as if to check it truly was his, Zero reluctantly stepped out of bed.

“Brilliant. Yet another feckin’ day in this minging city.”

Opening the closet, he donned his chainmail and armour plating. The combination was as heavy as a ship, but he liked to think of it as practice. It had become part of his daily attire, to the growing concern of his family.

He caught the stairs’ banister just as he felt himself stumble.

_You’ve gotta be takin’ the piss. I’m hungover, too?_

It had been a pint. _A pint!_ Cock, if Vile found out it’d be his head in the figurative guillotine.

Zero pushed the front door open with a calculated heave, taking a moment to adjust to the treacherous stench of Main Street.

_Main street my arse — the trundlin’ _market street _gets more traffic than this backalley._

With his destination in mind, Zero stepped out onto the cobbled road.

The crowd absorbed him into its shuffling pile of bodies; the mass of dull rags and tired faces that stumbled every passageway in this forsaken city. One gunshot and it’d be a stampede in seconds. Unfortunately for about everybody, you couldn’t turn a bloody corner without seeing _someone_ get shanked.

_“Oi pretty girl!_ You're lookin’ great today!”

Zero whipped around, his long locks of gold following lethargically.

“Bugger off, wanker!”

The offending man’s face flared up in humiliation — likely at the fact that he had, in fact, recently ousted himself as gay.

“Bugga’ off?! _Me? _Ya’re the scrubber with the hip-length hair!”

“no, ya' twat. I'm the _hunter_ with the hip-length hair.”

And it was precisely at that point, it seemed, that this stranger’s fate had been sealed. A bloke stepped between the two, facing Zero’s bristling conversation partner.

“Mate, you after callin’ a hunta’ gay?” Zero did not know this man. He had never seen him before. He did not wish to see him again. But that didn’t stop his new ally from decking his opponent across the jaw.

Zero turned away from the soon-to-be-brawl, walking at a brisker pace to the dragon hunters’ barracks. It was on the other side of town — closer to the large stockpiles of weapons and ammunition the city was known for regionally. Abel — a misspelling of the word able — had gotten its name from the ‘able knights’ it produced. Or so the legends told. In Zero’s opinion, that was a load of utter bollocks.

A shadow fell upon the street. Looking up, a large caravel ship floated above him. Its balloons looked concerningly deflated.

_That one’s not makin’ it to port._

Zero felt a hint of pity for the poor blokes’ homes the boat was on a collision-course with. Not a fun time, having your half-timbered house exposed to burning gasses.

Contemplatively, he glanced around. Cathedral? No. Castle? Not really. Manor? As if that coward of a lord’d let anyone in. No. Not a single structure nearby was devoid of wood — If the city went up in flames, it’d take _everyone_ with it.

_Not_ a pleasant thought.

-

The barracks stood forebodingly above him in all of its stone brick glory. It had been built specially to seem larger than it truly was — small windows, large foundations and a short staircase leading up to a tall, open wooden door. A portal to fame and riches.

All who were granted access were either worshipped or envied; usually a mix of the two. It didn’t matter if you were a janitor or an A class hunter, you were seen as inherently _better_ than those who surrounded you — in exception to the high nobility and royalty, of course.

Technically, they were called Dragon Hunters. But peasants weren’t polite and dragons weren’t liked; this led to them colloquially being known as Maverick Hunters. Maverick was a slur.

For _dragon_.

Don’t ask: Zero hadn’t a clue.

And the best part? The ‘Maverick Hunters’ were a group uniquely assembled for a purpose long since lost.

Dragons were almost extinct.

It hadn’t always been like that. The scaled beasts used to inhabit nearly the entirety of the surrounding mountains and valleys. There were many types; gembrows were typically harmless, redscales were but an annoyance to most. There were many types, but only one was remembered very well.

The nightbreathers.

Dark purple scales. Green accents. Deep blue pupil-less eyes, fire breath. About the size of a chapel. The thing was _terrifying._

None of its kind existed, anymore.

The king at the time didn’t quite enjoy the encroaching species’ tendency to burn down major population centres. It was a rather difficult task, enjoying the gradual decline of your country’s population and economy. So he came up with a solution: hunt the fuckers.

The Dragon Hunters started out as a smaller group, fit only for their intended purpose. But they worked _well._ Within seven years, the nightbreathers had been eradicated. Within seven decades, all dragons were nearing the same status, too. Even the harmless ones. Even the ones that couldn’t, _wouldn’t,_ fight back. And now?

The hunters had almost replaced the military. Its forces of highly trained warriors didn’t go to waste, instead aiding in conquests and battles. They _paraded_ down avenues on an _annual basis_. But their original purpose had never been forgotten. It’s why they were still regarded as angels.

Angels of death.

So as Zero walked through the ominous door as part of his morning routine, he couldn’t help but feel at least _slightly _validated.

-

Zero had forgotten to eat breakfast.

_Ah here, the tavern’s just a hop away…_

And that’s how Zero found himself — hungover — with a half-finished pint of beer in one hand and his head in another.

_Why the actual fuck did I think this was a good idea?_

“Top a’ the feckin’ mornin’ to ya’, Zero. How’s the huntin’ business goin’?”

Why. Out of all the people: why did it have to be Vile.

“It’s goin’ bloody gorgeous, cuntfuckMcGee.”

Somehow, Zero had achieved a state of drunk, hungover, and apathetic: all at the same time. The local circus would be impressed, if it didn’t keep insisting it had no need for another freakshow act.

“So ya’ can piss off, you absolute bellend.”

Vile, like the little big shit that he was, decided not to. Instead, he sat on the empty bar stool beside Zero and ordered a cup of ale.

_Yeah, yeah. Flaunt your wealth all ya’ want, richboy. It woaw't help the bruises you’ll have if ya’ don’t cut it soon._

“Nah lad, don’t think I will. You’re part of the maverick hunters now. Ya’ better start acting like it and learn to hold your drink.”

Zero felt his grimace deepen.

_“Dragon _hunters.”

Vile’s eyes caught the dim lighting, flashing briefly from the shadows cast by his limp purple locks.

“Wha’ was that?”

“Ya’ heard me. They’re called _dragons_, ya’ bastard. If you’re exterminating them, ya’ could at least try to respect ‘em in the process.”

Vile threw his head back in laughter. It was as loud as it was forced, and Zero wagered the next block over could hear it. His shoulders were wide apart and his arms were tense as they clutched the bar’s wooden counter. Zero heard something snap. At least the dickhead would have splinters in his hand. It’s the least karma could do, after the abomination that was his very existence.

Suddenly, the guffawing stopped, replaced by a firm hand on his shoulder as Vile leaned in and lowered his voice.

“You feckin’ sunuva bi-“

“Good morning, fellow hunters. Vile, halt your behaviour. This is the third time this week. Zero: come with me to the range, will you?”

Signas loomed over the two, casting dark shadows throughout the dank room.

Vile squeezed his shoulder painfully, nearly snapping the bone before he released it.

“Nah, mate! Ya’re mistaken! It was all craic, wasn’t it, Zero? _Just a bit of gas, yeah?”_

Their commander wasn’t having it.

“Enough. I don’t care what it was. Zero, if you’ll _please_.”

The blonde hesitated for a moment, before nodding silently.

“’Course it was, Vile.” And he got up.

Signas nodded back at him, before glancing briefly at the purple-haired man. Following his gaze, Zero stared vacantly at the hunter’s cold body language.

“’Course it was.”

-

“How are you, Zero?”

The young adult — _not _teenager. 20 doesn’t qualify as _teenager _— lowered his flintlock.

“Uh, grand, I guess.”

Signas looked at him. His sky blue eyes bore deeply into Zero’s. Cropped chestnut hair spiked mildly into the air, and his decorated army uniform was worn tight on his notable muscles. He was the very definition of a perfect commander, and also the only person in this entire building Zero _didn’t _hate.

“Zero, please be honest. I know for a fact that Vile has been treating you particularly poorly; he does that with every new recruit. It is unfortunate, and I will attempt to remedy that soon. However, have you taken to the job? Is it the people or the place that you dislike?”

Zero halted. How was he supposed to tell his commanding officer that he despised the main role of the organisation he worked for? How was he supposed to explain every nuance, every small, inconsequential detail that worsened his every day life? He wasn’t, that’s how.

“Neither, really.”

“Pick one.”

Reluctantly, Zero did.

“…Excludin’ ya’, sir, I guess it’s the people?”

Signas was silent for an unbearably long time. Refusing to fidget, Zero refocussed his eyes onto the pistole’s iron sights, and fired at the wooden target on the opposite end of the stretched room.

Bullseye.

“Alright. If you insist, then I won’t press you further. Right. How about I tell you of your first mission as a hunter, Zero?”

Zero’s hand twitched, spilling gunpowder over his wrist as he missed the barrel.

_“Wha’?!”_

A hint of a smile appeared on Signas’ face. “You heard me. What do you say?”

Eyes blown wide, Zero gave up on reloading his handgun. “…Yeah, yes. Sir.”

“Well then. There have been rumours of a gembrow that lives an old, long-abandoned castle upon a nearby mountain. The locals of the area have become anxious. I need you to investigate it, hunter. Do you accept?”

“…Yeah.”

Signas placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Perfect. Good luck, Zero. Farewell.”

Zero stared at the flintlock in his hands as the harsh footfalls faded away. His mind raced with mixed outlooks on his current situation, but all he could voice was one measly phrase:

“…Bloody ‘ell.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! Tell me what you guys think; I appreciate all types of feedback, constructive or not.
> 
> [Abandoned, sorry]


End file.
